A Reputed Changeling

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER XIX: THE DAUGHTER'S SECRET

  "Thy sister's naught: O Regan, she hath tiedSharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, _here_:I can scarce speak to thee."

  King Lear.

  "Am I--oh! am I going home?" thought Anne. "My uncle will be atWinchester. I am glad of it. I could not yet bear to seePortchester again. That Shape would be there. Yet how shall I dealwith what seems laid on me? But oh! the joy of escaping from thisweary, weary court! Oh, the folly that took me hither! Now thatthe Prince is gone, Lady Strickland will surely speak to the Queenfor my dismissal."

  There had been seventeen days of alarms, reports, and counter-reports, and now the King, with the Prince of Denmark, had gone tojoin the army on Salisbury Plain, and at the same time the littlePrince of Wales had been sent off to his half-brother, the Duke ofBerwick, at Portsmouth, under charge of Lady Powys, there to beembarked for France. Anne had been somewhat disappointed at notgoing with them, hoping that when at Portsmouth or in passingWinchester she might see her uncle and obtain her release, for shehad no desire to be taken abroad; but it was decreed otherwise.Miss Dunord went, rejoicing and thankful to be returning to France,and the other three rockers remained.

  There had already been more than one day of alarms and tumults. TheBody-guards within were always on duty; the Life-guards without wereconstantly patrolling; and on the 5th of November, when the Princeof Orange was known to be near at hand, and was in fact actuallylanding at Torbay, the mob had with difficulty been restrained fromburning in effigy, not only Guy Fawkes, but Pope, cardinals, andmitred bishops, in front of the palace, and actually paraded themall, with a figure of poor Sir Edmondbury Godfrey bearing his headin his hand, tied on horseback behind a Jesuit, full before thewindows, with yells of

  "The Pope, the Pope,Up the ladder and down the rope,"

  and clattering of warming-pans.

  Jane Humphreys was dreadfully frightened. Anne found her crouchingclose to her bed, with the curtains wrapped round her. "Have theygot in?" she cried. "O Miss Woodford, how shall we make thembelieve we are good Protestants?"

  And when this terror had subsided, and it was well known that theDutch were at Exeter, there was another panic, for one of the Life-guardsmen had told her to beware, since if the Royal troops atHounslow were beaten, the Papists would surely take their revenge.

  "I am to scream from the windows to Mr. Shaw," she said; but whatgood will that do if the priests and the Frenchmen have strangledme? And perhaps he won't be on guard."

  "He was only trying to frighten you," suggested Anne.

  "Dear me, Miss Woodford, aren't you afraid? You have the stomach ofa lion."

  "Why, what would be the good of hurting us?"

  However, Anne was not at all surprised, when on the very evening ofthe Prince's departure, old Mrs. Humphreys, a venerable-looking damein handsome but Puritanically-fashioned garments, came in a hackneycoach to request in her son's name that her granddaughter mightreturn with her, as her occupation was at an end.

  Jane was transported with joy.

  "Ay, ay," said the grandmother, "look at you now, and think howcrazy you were to go to the palace, though 'twas always against myjudgment."

  "Ah, I little knew how mortal dull it would be!" said Jane.

  "Ye've found it no better than the husks that the swine did eat, eh?So much the better and safer for your soul, child."

  Nobody wanted to retain Jane, and while she was hastily putting herthings together, the grandmother turned to Anne: "And you, MistressWoodford, from what I hear, you have been very good in keeping mysilly child stanch to her religion and true to her duty. If ever ona pinch you needed a friend in London, my son and I would be proudto serve you--Master Joshua Humphreys, at the Golden Lamb,Gracechurch Street, mind you. No one knows what may hap in thesestrange and troublesome times, and you might be glad of a house togo to till you can send to your own friends--that is, if we are notall murdered by the Papists first."

  Though Anne did not expect such a catastrophe as this, she wasreally grateful for the offer, and thought it possible that shemight avail herself of it, as she had not been able to communicatewith any of her mother's old friends, and Bishop Ken was not to herknowledge still in London.

  She watched anxiously for the opportunity of asking Lady Stricklandwhether she might apply for her dismissal, and write to her uncle tofetch her home.

  "Child," said the lady, "I think you love the Queen."

  "Indeed I do, madam."

  "It is well that at this juncture all Protestants should not leaveher. You are a gentlewoman in manner, and can speak her nativetongue, friends are falling from her, scarcely ladies are leftenough to make a fit appearance around her; if you are faithful toher, remain, I entreat of you."

  There was no resisting such an appeal, and Anne remained in therooms now left bare and empty, until a message was brought to her tocome to the Queen. Mary Beatrice sat in a chair by her fire,looking sad and listless, her eyes red with weeping, but she gaveher sweet smile as the girl entered, and held out her hand, sayingin her sweet Italian, "You are faithful, Signorina Anna! you remain!That is well; but now my son is gone, Anna, you must be mine. Imake you my reader instead of his rocker."

  As Anne knelt on one knee to kiss hands with tears in her eyes, theQueen impulsively threw her arms round her neck and kissed her."Ah, you loved him, and he loved you, il mio tesorino?"

  Promotion _had_ come--how strangely. She had to enter on her dutiesat once, and to read some chapters of an Italian version of theImitation. A reader was of a higher grade of importance than arocker, and for the ensuing days, when not in attendance on theQueen, Anne was the companion of Lady Strickland and LadyOglethorpe. In the absence of the King and Prince, the Queenreceived Princess Anne at her own table, and Lady Churchill and LadyFitzhardinge joined that of her ladies-in-waiting.

  Lady Churchill, with her long neck, splendid hair and complexion,short chin, and sparkling blue eyes, was beautiful to look at, butnot at all disposed to be agreeable to the Queen's ladies, whom shetreated with a sort of blunt scorn, not at all disguised by theforms of courtesy. However, she had, to their relief, a good dealof leave of absence just then to visit her children, as indeed theladies agreed that she did pretty much as she chose, and that thefaithful Mrs. Morley was somewhat afraid of the dear Mrs. Freeman.

  One evening in coming up some steps Princess Anne entangled her footin her pink taffetas petticoat, nearly fell, and tore a large rent,besides breaking the thread of the festoons of seed pearls whichbordered it, and scattering them on the floor.

  "Lack-a-day! Lack-a-day!" sighed she, as after a little screamingshe gathered herself up again. "That new coat! How shall I everface Danvers again such a figure? She's an excellent tirewoman, butshe will be neither to have nor to hold when she sees that gown--that she set such store by! Nay, I can hardly step for it."

  "I think I could repair it, with Her Majesty's and your RoyalHighness's permission," said Anne, who was creeping about on herknees picking up the pearls."

  "Oh! do! do! There's a good child, and then Danvers and Dawson needknow nothing about it," cried the Princess in great glee. "Youremember Dawson, don't you, little Woodie, as we used to call you,and how she used to rate us when we were children if we soiled ourfrocks?"

  So, in the withdrawing-room, Anne sat on the floor with needle andsilk, by the light of the wax candles, deftly repairing the rent,and then threading the scattered pearls, and arranging the festoonso as to hide the darn. The Princess was delighted, and while thepoor wife lay back in her chair, thankful that behind her fan shecould give way to her terrible anxieties about her little son, whomight be crossing to France, and her husband, suffering from fearfulnose-bleeding, and wellnigh alone among traitors and deserters, thestep-daughter, on the other side of the great hearth, chattered awaycomplacently to 'little Woodford.'

  "Do you recollect old Dawson, and how she used to grumble when Iwent to sup with the Duchess--my own mother--you know
, because sheused to give me chocolate, and she said it made me scream at night,and be over fat by day? Ah! that was before you used to come amongus. It was after I went to France to my poor aunt of Orleans. Iremember she never would let us kiss her for fear of spoiling hercomplexion, and Mademoiselle and I did so hate living maigre on thefast days. I was glad enough to get home at last, and then mysister was jealous because I talked French better than she did."

  So the Princess prattled on without needing much reply, until hernamesake had finished her work, with which she was well pleased, andpromised to remember her. To Anne it was an absolute marvel how shecould thus talk when she knew that her husband had deserted herfather in his need, and that things were in a most criticalposition.

  The Queen could not refrain from a sigh of relief when her step-daughter had retired to the Cockpit; and after seeking her sleeplessbed, she begged Anne, "if it did not too much incommode her, to readto her from the Gospel."

  The next day was Sunday, and Anne felt almost as if deserting hercause, when going to the English service in Whitehall Chapel Royal,now almost emptied except of the Princess's suite, and some of thesehad the bad taste and profanity to cough and chatter all through thespecial prayer drawn up by the Archbishop for the King's safety.

  People were not very reverent, and as all stood up at the end of theAdvent Sunday service to let the Princess sweep by in her glitteringgreen satin petticoat, peach-coloured velvet train, and feather-crowned head, she laid a hand on Anne's arm, and whispered, "Followme to my closet, little Woodford."

  There was no choice but to obey, as the Queen would not require herreader till after dinner, and Anne followed after the variousattendants, who did not seem very willing to forward a privateinterview with a possible rival, though, as Anne supposed, theobject must be to convey some message to the Queen. By the time shearrived and had been admitted to the inner chamber or dressing-room,the Princess had thrown off her more cumbrous finery, and sat atease in an arm-chair. She nodded her be-curled head, and said, "Youcan keep a secret, little Woodie?"

  "I can, madam, but I do not love one," said Anne, thinking of hermost burthensome one.

  "Well, no need to keep this long. You are a good young maiden, andmy own poor mother's godchild, and you are handy and notable. Youdeserve better preferment than ever you will get in that Popishhousehold, where your religion is in danger. Now, I am not going tobe in jeopardy here any longer, nor let myself be kept hostage forhis Highness. Come to my rooms at bedtime. Slip in when I wish theQueen good-night, and I'll find an excuse. Then you shall come withme to--no, I'll not say where, and I'll make your fortune, onlymum's the word."

  "But--Your Royal Highness is very good, but I am sworn to the Princeand Queen. I could not leave them without permission."

  "Prince! Prince! Pretty sort of a Prince. Prince of brickbats, asChurchill says. Nay, girl, don't turn away in that fashion.Consider. Your religion is in danger."

  "Nay, madam, my religion would not be served by breaking my oath."

  "Pooh! What's your oath to a mere pretender? Besides, consideryour fortune. Rocker to a puling babe--even if he was what they sayhe is. And don't build on the Queen's favour--even if she remainswhat she is now, she is too much beset with Papists and foreignersto do anything for you."

  "I do not," Anne began to say, but the Princess gave her no time.

  "Besides, pride will have a fall, and if you are a good maid, andhold your tongue, and serve me well in this strait, I'll make you mymaid of honour, and marry you so that you shall put Lady before yourname. Ay, and get good preferment for your uncle, who has had onlya poor stall from the King here."

  Anne repressed an inclination to say this was not the way in whichher uncle would wish to get promotion, and only replied, "Your RoyalHighness is very good, but--"

  Whereat the Princess, in a huff, exclaimed, "Oh, very well, if youchoose to be torn to pieces by the mob, and slaughtered by thepriests, like poor Godfrey, and burnt by the Papists at last, unlessyou go to Mass, you may stay for aught I care, and joy go with you.I thought I was doing you a kindness for my poor mother's sake, butit seems you know best. If you like to cast in your lot with thePope, I wash my hands of you."

  Accordingly Anne courtesied herself off, not seriously alarmed as tothe various catastrophes foretold by the Princess, though a littleshaken in nerves. Here then was another chance of promotion,certainly without treason to her profession of faith, but so offeredthat honour could not but revolt against it, though in truth poorPrincess Anne was neither so foolish nor so heartless a woman as sheappeared in the excitement to which an uneasy conscience, theexpectation of a great enterprise, and a certain amount of terrorhad worked her up; but she had high words again in the evening, aswas supposed, with the Queen. Certainly Anne found her own RoyalMistress weeping and agitated, though she only owned to being veryanxious about the health of the King, who had had a second violentattack of bleeding at the nose, and she did not seem consoled by theassurances of her elder attendants that the relief had probablysaved him from a far more dangerous attack. Again Anne read to hertill a late hour, but next morning was strangely disturbed.

  The Royal household had not been long dressed, and breakfast hadjust been served to the ladies, when loud screams were heard, moststartling in the unsettled and anxious state of affairs. The Queen,pale and trembling, came out of her chamber with her hair on hershoulders. "Tell me at once, for pity's sake. Is it my husband ormy son?" she asked with clasped hands, as two or three of thePrincess's servants rushed forward.

  "The Princess, the Princess!" was the cry, "the priests havemurdered her."

  "What have you done with her, madam?" rudely demanded Mrs. Buss, oneof the lost lady's nurses.

  Mary Beatrice drew herself up with grave dignity, saying, "I supposeyour mistress is where she likes to be. I know nothing of her, butI have no doubt that you will soon hear of her."

  There was something in the Queen's manner that hushed the outcry inher presence, but the women, with Lady Clarendon foremost of them,continued to seek up and down the two palaces as if they thought thesubstantial person of the Princess Anne could be hidden in acupboard.

  Anne, in the first impulse, exclaimed, "She is gone!"

  In a moment Mrs. Royer turned, "Gone, did you say? Do you know it?"

  "You knew it and kept it secret!" cried Lady Strickland.

  "A traitor too!" said Lady Oglethorpe, in her vehement Irish tone."I would not have thought it of Nanny Moore's daughter!" and sheturned her eyes in sad reproach on Anne.

  "If you know, tell me where she is gone," cried Mrs. Buss, and thecry was re-echoed by the other women, while Anne's startled "Icannot tell! I do not know!" was unheeded.

  Only the Queen raising her hand gravely said, "Silence! What isthis?"

  "Miss Woodford knew."

  "And never told!" cried the babble of voices.

  "Come hither, Mistress Woodford," said the Queen. "Tell me, do youknow where Her Highness is?"

  "No, please your Majesty," said Anne, trembling from head to foot."I do not know where she is."

  "Did you know of her purpose?"

  "Your Majesty pardon me. She called me to her closet yesterday andpledged me to secrecy before I knew what she would say."

  "Only youthful inexperience will permit that pledge to be implied inmatters of State," said the Queen. "Continue, Mistress Woodford;what did she tell you?"

  "She said she feared to be made a hostage for the Prince of Denmark,and meant to escape, and she bade me come to her chamber at night togo with her."

  "And wherefore did you not? You are of her religion," said theQueen bitterly.

  "Madam, how could I break mine oath to your Majesty and His RoyalHighness?"

  "And you thought concealing the matter according to that oath? Nay,nay, child, I blame you not. It was a hard strait between yourhonour to her and your duty to the King and to me, and I cannot butbe thankful to any one who does regard her word. But thi
s desertionwill be a sore grief to His Majesty."

  Mary Beatrice was fairer-minded than the women, who looked askanceat the girl, Princess Anne's people resenting that one of the otherhousehold should have been chosen as confidante, and the Queen'sbeing displeased that the secret had been kept. But at that momentfrightful yells and shouts arose, and a hasty glance from thewindows showed a mass of men, women, and children howling for theirPrincess. They would tear down Whitehall if she were not deliveredup to them. However, a line of helmeted Life-guards on their heavyhorses was drawn up between, with sabres held upright, and thereseemed no disposition to rush upon these. Lord Clarendon, uncle tothe Princess, had satisfied himself that she had really escaped, andhe now came out and assured the mob, in a stentorian voice, that hewas perfectly satisfied of his niece's safety, waving the letter shehad left on her toilet-table.

  The mob shouted, "Bless the Princess! Hurrah for the Protestantfaith! No warming-pans!" but in a good-tempered mood; and the poorlittle garrison breathed more freely; but Anne did not feel herselfforgiven. She was in a manner sent to Coventry, and treated as ifshe were on the enemy's side. Never had her proud nature sufferedso much, and she shed bitter tears as she said to herself, "It isvery unjust! What could I have done? How could I stop Her Highnessfrom speaking? Could they expect me to run in and accuse her? Oh,that I were at home again! Mother, mother, you little know! Ofwhat use am I now?"

  It was the very question asked by Hester Bridgeman, whom she foundpacking her clothes in her room.

  "Take care that this is sent after me," she said, "when a messengerI shall send calls for it."

  "What, you have your dismissal?"

  "No, I should no more get it than you have done. They cannot affordto let any one go, you see, or they will have to dress up thechambermaids to stand behind the Queen's chair. I have settled itwith my cousin, Harry Bridgeman, I shall mix with the throng thatcome to ask for news, and be off with him before the crowd breaksin, as they will some of these days, for the guards are but half-hearted. My Portia, why did not you take a good offer, and go withthe Princess?"

  "I thought it would be base."

  "And much you gained by it! You are only suspected and accused."

  "I can't be a rat leaving a sinking ship."

  "That is courteous, but I forgive it, Portia, as I know you willrepent of your folly. But you never did know which side to look forthe butter."

  Perhaps seeing how ugly desertion and defection looked in othersmade constancy easier to Anne, much as she longed for the Close atWinchester, and she even thought with a hope of the Golden Lamb,Gracechurch, as an immediate haven sure to give her a welcome.

  Her occupation of reading to the Queen was ended by the King'sreturn, so physically exhausted by violent nose-bleeding, sodespondent at the universal desertion, and so broken-hearted at hisdaughter's defection, that his wife was absorbed in attending uponhim.

  Anne began to watch for an opportunity to demand a dismissal, whichshe thought would exempt her from all blame, but she was surprisedand a little dismayed by being summoned to the King in the Queen'schamber. He was lying on a couch clad in a loose dressing-gowninstead of his laced coat, and a red night-cap replacing his heavyperuke, and his face was as white and sallow as if he wererecovering from a long illness.

  "Little godchild," he said, holding out his hand as Anne made herobeisance, "the Queen tells me you can read well. I have a fancy tohear."

  Immensely relieved at the kindness of his tone, Anne courtesied, andmurmured out her willingness.

  "Read this," he said; "I would fain hear this; my father loved it.Here."

  Anne felt her task a hard one when the King pointed to the third Actof Shakespeare's Richard II. She steeled herself and strengthenedher voice as best she could, and struggled on till she came to--

  "I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,My gay apparel for an almsman's gown,My figured goblets for a dish of wood,My sceptre for a palmer's walking-staff,My subjects for a pair of carved saints,And my large kingdom for a little grave,A little, little grave."

  There she fairly broke down, and sobbed.

  "Little one, little one," said James, you are sorry for poorRichard, eh?"

  "Oh, sir!" was all she could say.

  "And you are in disgrace, they tell me, because my daughter chose totry to entice you away," said James, "and you felt bound not tobetray her. Never mind; it was an awkward case of conscience, andthere's not too much faithfulness to spare in these days. We shallknow whom to trust to another time. Can you continue now? I wouldtake a lesson how, 'with mine own hands to give away my crown.'"

  It was well for Anne that fresh tidings were brought in at thatmoment, and she had to retire, with the sore feeling turned into anenthusiastic pity and loyalty, which needed the relief of sobs andmental vows of fidelity. She felt herself no longer in disgracewith her Royal master and mistress, but she was not in favour withher few companions left--all who could not get over her secrecy, andthought her at least a half traitor as well as a heretic.

  Whitehall was almost in a state of siege, the turbulent mobcontinually coming to shout, 'No Popery!' and the like, though theyproceeded no farther. The ministers and other gentlemen came andwent, but the priests and the ladies durst not venture out for fearof being recognised and insulted, if not injured. Bad news came infrom day to day, and no tidings of the Prince of Wales being insafety in France. Once Anne received a letter from her uncle, whichcheered her much.

  DEAR CHILD--So far as I can gather, your employment is at an end,if it be true as reported that the Prince of Wales is atPortsmouth, with the intent that he should be carried to France;but the gentlemen of the navy seem strongly disposed to preventsuch a transportation of the heir of the realm to a foreigncountry. I fear me that you are in a state of doubt and anxiety,but I need not exhort your good mother's child to be true andloyal to her trust and to the Anointed of the Lord in all thingslawful at all costs. If you are left in any distress orperplexity, go either to Sir Theophilus Oglethorpe's house, or tothat of my good old friend, the Dean of Westminster; and as soonas I hear from you I will endeavour to ride to town and bring youhome to my house, which is greatly at a loss without its youngmistress.

  The letter greatly refreshed Anne's spirits, and gave her somethingto look forward to, giving her energy to stitch at a set of lawncuffs and bands for her uncle, and think with the more pleasure of areturn that his time of residence at Winchester lay between her andthat vault in the castle.

  There were no more attempts made at her conversion. Every one wastoo anxious and occupied, and one or more of the chiefly obnoxiouspriests were sent privately away from day to day. While summerfriends departed, Anne often thought of Bishop Ken's counsel as toloyalty to Heaven and man.